The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1887-02-16

week and sell eighty dozen. That's
eighty-four dozen, or twelve dozen per
day. That is less than eight eggs a
day for each hen. A hen who has
our interests at heart will surely pro-
duce that many" "Well, if they'll do
it," "Do i'll Mrs. Bowser, what you
don't know about hens makes me tired!
What is a hen for but to lay eggs?
What would be her object in doing
otherwise, or in skipping a day?n
During the next week he was studying
up on poultry and making purchases of
small lots. heard him talking about
White and Black Leghorns. Cochins,
Shanghais and other kinds, and / know
he paid as high as dollar apiece for
some OF 'em. AT the end of week
he had twenty hens and rooster, and
he swelled with pride and said to me:
MRS. Bowser, prepare your mouth for
fresh eggs for breakfast" d" But hens
don't lay in the night, do they?" l
asked. "They may, or they may not.
If there is any good reason why they
shouldn't, don't know it. am 90
ing to leave lighted lamp in the coop
tonight, and if they take notion to
lay they will find everything handy"
Next morning he was out of bed at
daylight to pay visit to the coop, but
we had no fresh eggs for breakfast.
He said that no hen could be expected
to do her best until she had become fa-
miiar with the coop and on speaking
terms with the family. Day after day
passed, but we got no eggs. Mr.. Bow
sers idea that a hen could be wound
up and set to laying like an alarm clock
was abandoned, and he bought lime,
red pepper, egg-shells, Indian meal and
a dozen other things for food. On the
ninth day he brought in an egg. 1t
was one | instructed the cook to take
out there and place in nest. Bowser
came running in with it, his face all
aglow, and as he held it up to view he
shouted: Mrs. Bowser, here is the
living proof of my sagacityp " Yes,
but don't wake the baby" "Baby be
hanged What's a red-faced, wall-eyed,
ten-pound baby to the fact that our
hens have commenced to lay?" Poor
mani felt sorry for him as the DAYS
slipped away and we got no more eggs.
He brought up householder, for
tune-teller, farmer and a dog-faucier,
and he carefully followed all their sug-
gestiOns, but the result was eggless.
Some one told him that the hens needed
a sudden fright to set their laying ma
chinery in motion, and he sneaked out
at intervals and suddenly fired an old
shotgun over the coop. No good.
When he was told that they were too
warm he ripped off the battens. When
told that they were too cold he nailed
them on again. One morning when l
came down stairs he paused in his ma
jestic pacing back and forth and said:
Mrs. Bowser, while you recklessly
slumbered last night some one came
and stole every fowl from the coopn'
"No" "Solemn fact And that's
the kind of person you are, Mrs.
Bowsern' "But I've got to sleep"
eyes. it seems so, and at my cost, Mrs.
Bowser; Pm out about SO" g But you
can't blame me. l didn't tell you to 90
into the hen business" "You didn't.
Mrs. Bowser, I've always known that
you were a slack houskeepr and great
gossip, but l did not suppose you could
look me in the face and tell deliberate
untruth. Farewell, Mrs. Bowser! Fare
WE'LL wall-eyed babyp' But he came
sneaking home at ten O'Clock that
night, and the word chen " has not
been spoken in our house since.-De-
troit Free Press.